Remembering and remembered
by 2Old4This2
Summary: A little story of kindness and coincidence, unrelated to any episode or other story, so that we remember there is a little good in even the most awful times.


**Remembering and Remembered**

A _White Collar_ Fan Fiction

**Disclaimer**: _White Collar _is owned by Jeff Eastin and USA Network. I'm just borrowing the characters for entertainment purposes.

Neal pushed open the front door of June's home with his foot, the New York Post tucked under one arm, a large carryout coffee in his other hand. He paused, hearing voices from the back of the house.

"Morning, June!" he called out.

"Good morning, Neal dear. Why don't you come back here and join us?"

Following his landlady's voice, he saw Mozzie seated at the dining room table, a cup of carryout coffee in front of him and June, with a cup of tea in front of her. A plate of pastries rested between them on the polished surface of the table.

"Morning, Moz." Neal put his coffee down in front of an empty chair and reached for the paper under his arm. "You're out early this morning.",

"So are you." the little man retorted. "I do that sometimes, you know," he continued defensively, "go out early."

"Okay, Moz, no problem." Neal smiled at his friend, dropping the newspaper on the table. Three sets of eyes looked at the front page, taking in the well known silhouette of the Twin Towers. No one spoke.

"I see you went to Mrs. Hassan's store," June nodded at the cup on the table.

"I love her coffee." Neal smiled.

"She has the best coffee around," Mozzie indicated his own cup. "I always get hers."

"Unless you can sponge off June," Neal taunted as he seated himself.

"I enjoy June's coffee very much." Mozzie responded calmly, "But I know she gives her staff Sunday's off, so I went to Mrs. Hassan's."

June smiled indulgently at them, reaching for a pastry. "I'm so glad she stayed in the neighborhood. She was so scared right after 9/11 I didn't think she would stay in New York at all, even though it had been her home for many years."

"Because she's Muslim?" Mozzie's face reflected the outrage he obviously felt.

"People were so angry then," June explained. "The whole city was so wounded and scared. Byron offered her protection." There was a brief pause. "We both did what we could for her and her family. One of her brothers was killed in the south Tower. It was such an awful time."

"I remember. I was here then." Mozzie said shortly. His eyes were drawn again to the newspaper on the table.

"Everyone remembers where they were that day." June said sadly. She took a sip of the tea in front of her. "Were you in New York then?" she asked, looking over at Neal.

Neal briefly looked away from his landlady. "I was – elsewhere," he answered cryptically. He put down his coffee cup. "I didn't come to New York until the spring after the attacks."

June nodded at him, smiling slightly. The smile faded as she drank her tea; her eyes took on a faraway look of remembrance.

"Our eldest son, Lawrence, worked in the north Tower."

Both men turned, shock on their faces, to look at the older woman sitting there so calmly. Only the slightest tremble of her hand gave away her emotions.

"Oh, my God June," Neal began raggedly, "I'm so ..."

"Oh, no dear, Lawrence wasn't lost that day. He came home safely to us. But we were so scared. And so were his wife and Cindy."

"Lawrence is Cindy's father." Neal remarked.

"Yes. Cindy and her mother spent that day with us. Cindy was just thirteen then, and so very scared for her father. But then, so were Byron and I." June smiled a little tremulously. He didn't make it here until late that afternoon. He evacuated just before the south Tower collapsed. He was covered in that awful dust. We burned his clothes. They were filled with such bad memories."

June took a deep breath and shook herself slightly. Her tea and pastry were long forgotten.

"But in all that horror, all that death, what moved Lawrence the most was the kindness of others – of total strangers who were there along the way, helping who they could. He said all along the route north, there were people who offered them towels and water. There were two men in Madison Square Park, buskers I believe Lawrence called them, who had a regular aid station set up. They had bottled water they were handing out, and several cell phones they let people use to try and reach their family and friends. That was how Lawrence contacted us to let us know he was alright and coming home."

June wiped an unintended tear from her face. "I've always been so grateful to those kind strangers." She didn't notice Neal staring at Mozzie with a combination of disbelief and fond pride.

"Moz?"

June looked at Mozzie, startled, as he looked uncomfortably away.

"Yes," he said flatly, " we were in the park that day. Yes, we may have helped out a few people." Mozzie looked up then and appeared to grow a little taller.

"What were we supposed to do?" he asked. "These people were in distress. We could help. Even if it was possibly a government conspiracy." Neal emitted a little snort at that, then quickly silenced himself.

"Those people needed help. We helped them. We did what any true New Yorker would do." Mozzie reached for his coffee cup and took a long drink.

June stood then, and went to her friend, leaning in to give him a very heartfelt hug.

"Thank you so much for your kindness, dear." She kissed the top of his shining bald head. Mozzie remained still during this demonstration of affection, though he looked very much like he would like to be anywhere else. When June had seated herself again, he took a final gulp of coffee and stood.

"Thank you June, for your hospitality. I need to be going, I have things to do." Mozzie left the house without a backward glance.

Neal and June sat in silence for a moment.

"Moz is one unusual man." Neal said fondly.

"But a very fine one." June added.


End file.
